Flame to the Fyre Chronicles 3:The Serpents Twined
by sakhara291
Summary: He didn't love anyone. And that was fine- she didn't love him either. TR OC
1. The Serpents Meet

[A/N- yes, I know, I keep starting things before I finish everything. But I've just found this story so intriguing that I haven't been able to get off of it or out of it. So, here's to hopes for more reviews, and a decent romance, if doomed! Read through my other two stories, this is something of a prequel. I think it's a good start. The song this chapter revolves around, as well as at the beginning, is Serenity, by Godsmack.]

"I'm the one who loves you 

_No matter wrong or right_

_And every day I hold you_

_I hold you with my inner child."_

_- Godsmack, Serenity_

Histalni breathed deeply, evenly. The silence in the great hall of Hogwarts school was deafening, and the small table in front of her was radiating criticism. She understood that most of them had not believed in her existence until they'd seen her. A Silver Blood Sorceress. Ha! Right! Her wings shifted nervously, her pale gray and black hair falling into her eyes. It was so short, she couldn't really stop it- but she could still see. After all, it only came to her cheekbones. She'd given it purple highlights, for sakes, and it matched her purple blouse and black jeans quite well. Her shoes were strapped, comfortable sandals, and her looks were finished off with a touch of silver nail polish. She was vain, she knew. She was also young to be testing into the Fyre. She breathed again, staring the head judge in the eyes.

"You may begin when ready, Miss Jekinart," he stated, his white wingspan bunched uncomfortably against the chair back.

She nodded. _Just this. This is all. And then I'm done._ She focused, and the guitar chords floated through the air, hurtful and menacing. Then the drums started. She opened her mouth to sing the first few bars. The bass was strong enough to shake the floor.

_"As I sit here_

_And slowly close my eyes_

_I take another deep breath_

_And feel the wind pass through my body_

_I'm the one in your soul_

_Reflecting inner light_

_Protect the ones who hold you_

_Cradling your inner child_

_I need serenity_

In a place where I can hide 

_I need serenity_

_Nothing changes, days go by..." _then she began the dance, as the music held itself, and the lights faded into harsh blacks and whites, stage light and shadow, severe, with soft violet. Her hands twirled intricately and her hips swayed in her own personal style of heavy spell casting. This was meant to impress- and she meant it to. This was her song. Her life. Her pain, and she felt her memories fading into the music.

_Where do we go when we just don't know?_

_And how do we relight the flame when it's cold?_

_Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing?_

_And when will we learn to control?_

_Tragic visions _

_Slowly stole my life_

_Tore away everything_

_Cheating me out of my time_

_I'm the one who loves you_

_No matter wrong or right_

_And every day I hold you_

_I hold you with my inner child_

_I need serenity_

_In a place where I can hide_

_I need serenity_

_Nothing changes, days go by_

_Where do we go when we just don't know?_

_And how do we relight the flame when it's cold?_

_Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing?_

_And when will we learn to control? _Her voice lilted the air, but she wasn't singing. Her wings ruffled lightly with the act of keeping balanced. She was so entranced with her own involved spellcasting she didn't notice the spare presence in the room.

_Where do we go when we just don't know?_

_And how do we relight the flame when it's cold?_

_Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing?_

_And when will we learn to control? (I need serenity....)_

_Where do we go when we just don't know? (I need serenity...)_

_And how do we relight the flame when it's cold? (I need serenity...)_

_Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing? (I need serenity...)_

_And when will we learn to control?_ She stood there, as her strength ebbed away, into herself. She looked up at the table. 

"The Sphynx welcomes you to the Fyre, Miss Jekinart. Go back to your instructor, we will inform you of your position at a later date."

She nodded, turned on her heel and walked out the door. When she opened it, she found herself staring into the brown eyes of a strange boy, not much older than herself.

***

Tom had run back into the Great Hall to retrieve some books he had forgotten, as the school year was almost over, and found the room transformed. He was rooted to his spot in the doorway as the most beautiful girl… woman... he had ever seen danced gracefully across the floor, a huge pair of glittering silver wings trailing behind her. Music coated the room, a personal favorite song of his, and lights shifted and changed throughout the hall. He thought, for a moment, that it might have been some ceremony of the Headmaster's, but he noticed that the music and the lights changed with the motions of the dancer. He could almost feel her concentration. And the beauty of the scene, it had him intoxicated. Riveted to the spot. Suddenly, the music was over, and by the time he came out of his trance, he found himself staring into the most vibrant, beautiful violet eyes he'd ever seen in his life.


	2. The Serpent's Fangs

[A/N- my apologies for the forever and a day wait…. It's a relatively long chapter, hope it makes up for it. Thank you for the marvelous reviews. Looks like this'll be one of my more popular stories. *Smile*]

"Half life wastes before it goes 

_It's funny how your bee sting touch never leaves me whole_

It's not enough to stay here almost trying 

_You keep your last laugh watch this dying_

_It's just your half time vertigo_

_And if you want an answer- I don't know."_

_-Sneaker Pimps, Half Life_

"Who are you?" she scoffed. Some…. Wizard…. Was standing in her way. In her space. He was handsome, yes, with eyes that rocked her back on her heels and a strong, aristocratic face. But that wasn't the point. He was in her way. He wasn't supposed to be there.

"Tom Riddle," he answered, taken aback. "I'm a student here. Who might you be?"

"Histalni Jekinart," she replied. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"I've missed most of it. Are you a student, then?"

"No." Her eyes darted to his head boy badge. "The ministry, nor the headmaster, would allow it."

"Why not?"

She raised an eyebrow. Was he being deliberately dense, or did he really not know what she was? 

"My Blood, stupid. Or did you not notice?" Her wings ruffled deliberately to emphasize as she pushed past him, her stride long and proud, chin high and shoulders back.

Tom turned to watch her go. Questions to answer, much like his parentage. He'd best get to the library- he would not give her occasion to insult him again.

***

"I know what you are now," Tom strode quickly to catch up with the sorceress in front of him.

"That's great. Yell it to the world, why don't you?" she continued to walk.

"I can't. It said nothing about grey. There is only Black and White Blood."

"Well give the kid a medal, he figured out the obvious," she projected her voice to echo off the corridors. "And for your information, it's Silver Blood. That's what I am."

"Which means what?" he understood the concept of black and white not being good and evil, merely being separate groupings of personality traits and ways to channel magical strengths. So would that make Silver Blood the queen of sarcasm? It was pissing him off and he was concerned he'd never be capable of humiliating her if it kept up. But Silver Sorcery had not come up once in his study session. 

"You tell me," she spun to face him, and he was once again caught off guard by the sharp violet flames of her eyes. They were no longer angry, but sarcasm continued to drip from her emancipated frame. "I'm the first one."

"If you weren't such a smart ass, we might get along rather well, actually."

She exhaled in what seemed to be a subdued laugh, smiling slightly. "Maybe it'll rub off on you, and you won't be such a dumb ass. Why should we be, anyway?"

"Why not," he smiled tentatively as her smile faded.

"You're a Slytherin, and you've done your homework. You know the only way you could get any of my strength, correct?"

"Yes," it was more of a question than an answer.

"I'm not sleeping with you," it sounded like another insult, but he had to silence the impulse to laugh.

"Alright then, shall we have lunch?" He took her arm in his, and she drew it away, stepping away from him. Her expression was dangerous.

"Don't presume to control me."

His patience began to fray. "Don't presume I shall be a model of chivalry, either."

"Fair enough," she flashed him a breath- taking smile, and grabbed his hand as she walked toward the great hall. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen. This is my last year."

"Have you enjoyed it?"

"So much." She smiled imperceptibly as his eyes lit up. "I came from a muggle orphanage, and…"

"I don't want to go home, either," she replied, squeezing his hand. She had not let go, and he found, oddly enough, that he enjoyed the sensation.

"Why are you here then, if you're not taking classes?"

"I was just initiated into SphynxFyre, so my training is, essentially, over. I stay here until I find more suitable accommodations- I've been looking for a flat in the London area."

"Really? So've I."

"Interesting," she smiled at him again, letting go of his hand to open the door to the great hall, following to sit next to him. Some of the girls who'd had their eye on the head boy frowned at this intrusion by a complete stranger, and she noticed, her swagger becoming just a little more prominent. In the back of his mind, he noted that her wings had disappeared. "What will you do when you graduate?" she heaped some potatoes on her plate.

"I'm not sure, really. Probably move to London, get a job in the ministry. Yourself?"

"No earthly idea. My parents left me a nice inheritance, so I may not work for a while. Actually, I may not work ever."

"Must be nice," he took a bite of his lunch, chewing thoughtfully.

"Not really, it's lonely."

"Tom, why don't you introduce me to your friend?" a Slytherin sat across from them, giving an appreciative leer at her bustline.

"I'd say he's not at liberty to do so," her voice was all sugar and poisonously sweet. "And I won't waste my breath. And you may as well quit staring," she added in an undertone, standing and leaning over the table. "Because the day I screw you is the day Julius Caesar walks through that door."

With that, she stood and walked off.


	3. The Serpents' Snare

[A/N- to clear up. I know this is getting Mary Suish and really fast to be realistic. Trust me that it's part of the story. Trust me that it's not that I can't write a Tom Riddle romance. I think I can. I think I can…. *fingers crossed* So I guess I should warn you- it'll be a while before we get to the smut. I'll leave you lemons and cliffies and (dum dum dum) a plot. Which is now starting to formulate. I'll leave you to it.

_"Candles raised by desire_

_Why I'm so far away_

_No more meaning to my life_

_No more reason to stay_

_Freeze in feel in_

_Breathe in breathe in_

_I'm coming back again."_

_- Godsmack, VooDoo_

She slammed the door behind her, hair flying haphazardly as she glowered at the passageway in front of her. Her face contorted, and jaw tensed sporadically in what seemed like nausea. A strangled bark of laughter tore loose from her throat, and she leaned back against the door, allowing herself a spine-chilling peal of laughter. Must men always be so simple to manipulate? Were none challenging? Even mentally stimulating? She smiled slightly at the obvious answer, turning to look back at the monotone, graying wood of the doors. She'd sleep with him, but that was, roughly, the extent of her emotional interest. If sex was even an emotional thing. But it was a dangerous game, he knew what he could take- the question was more in whether or not he knew how. And Histalni could be a little reckless, but there was a fine line between reckless and foolhardy. Being in his presence for more than five minutes gave her a raw headache. The fact that she could make him show discomfort, however well masked, was consoling. He was, like her, a commanding persona. Perhaps she would follow him on whatever power- hungry adventure he was on, and steal his hard earned thunder….

Another bark of laughter rang through the halls as she began walking. "Histalni, doll, you've cracked. You'll be out of here in a month, and you are actually wasting thought processes on a wizard, a mortal, halfwit. You'll be so far above him soon- why bother?"

Tom shut the door silently as he watched her walk away. She also…? No. The remedies of Sorcery blood and wizards were too dissimilar. But maybe…

Maybe shit. Maybe nothing. They say the consort of a Sorceress has full access to her power, but he'd sooner be raped by the minotaur as cojole her into any kind of sexual situation. It was a dangerous game, and she played it like a professional. No. Pointless to think about, foolish to attempt. 

But, he turned his feet toward the third floor lavoratory, to tap into such magical strength would be worth almost any price. Whatever she was on a quest for, she could get her damned self.

Still brooding, he turned the faucet and levitated down the entrance to his home. Scratching Lilith's sleeping head, he entered the small chamber to the side of the caverns, closing the door behind him. The eyes that greeted him were dangerously remniscent of the ones he had just left, flagged on either side by bookshelves that held the most potent manuscripts of the dark arts. It was the only place he had found mention of sorcery, mainly in folktales and obscure, broad sentences. 

_Salazar Slytherin fell for a Sorceress. She nearly caused his downfall, _he recalled. _She bore him two children, used him for her own ends, and left him. He was so infuriated that he left Hogwarts, and all he could have done is mine to do._

He touched the full lips of the woman's unmoving portrait, contemplating.

"I will never fall in love," he whispered solemnly. He meant it with every fiber of his being. "I will never be so foolish as to have my plans laid waste by a woman."

He looked back into the portrait's eyes, steeled, but unsure.

Far above, in the dark halls, a silver winged figure twirled about in childish ecstasy at the victory she thought she felt in her grasp. She had no idea that the emotion was shared by the victim of her ploy.


End file.
